Travelogue: The long flight home—this time, I enjoyed myself

Pure happiness is an empty cabin, unlimited cognac, and a PC full of Sierra games.

With Ars sending writers around the globe to visit GE research centers, we wanted our readers to share in with some of the experiences we're having during these travels. These blog posts are meant to convey some highlights, rather than being an exhaustive account of our trip.

After three full days in Munich, I rolled out of bed at 4:00am on Thursday to start the long trek home. First came an early cab ride at what in the US would be considered mostly extralegal speeds. Several unlimited speed stretches later, I was dropped off at Munich Airport to await the first of the day's two flights.

Airport security in Germany wasn’t terribly different from going through the TSA pre-check line in the US—I didn’t have to take off my shoes, and although I did have to pull my laptop out, there was a simple metal detector instead of a more advanced imager. I was through it pretty quickly, though it probably helped that it was still only about 5:30am.

On the way over, I’d flown Delta—first from Houston to Atlanta, and then across the ocean from Atlanta to Munich. However, my flights back were code-shared—each leg was actually going to be on KLM aircraft, with a Delta flight number sort of tagged onto the back. This was great because it meant that right off the bat, my business-class ticket got me into Munich Airport’s KLM lounge. I settled in for the thirty-minute wait to boarding with a steaming cup of coffee made from freshly ground beans and enjoyed the quiet.

Enlarge/ KLM's lounge at Munich Airport. It's quiet and the coffee was very good.

The first leg of the flight was from Munich to Amsterdam, a quick hop that took about an hour. The KLM 737 was set up in a two-class layout, but instead of having bigger seats in the front, the business-class section had regular 3-by-3 seating… except the middle seats all had a "Reserved for your personal space" banner hung across them. It seemed kind of an odd way to do a cabin layout, but they served a nice cold breakfast to us, so I definitely didn’t complain.

The KLM 737 from Munich to Amsterdam had somewhat of an odd seating arrangement in the front cabin—three-by-three, but with the middle seats marked off as "personal space."

Tasty cold breakfast.

The thing I remember most about Amsterdam’s airport is that it felt like I had to walk several kilometers from my landing gate to my boarding gate. The exercise was actually pretty nice, especially considering that I was going to spend the next 10 hours in a plane, but man it was far. The airport was super-nice, however, and it even had a bunch of green "relaxation spaces" stuffed full of plants and speakers pumping out subtle nature sounds. At this point I also had to pass through customs—which amounted to a uniformed gentleman looking at my passport, looking at my face, and then saying "Enjoy your trip, Mr. Hutchinson" in nearly accentless English.

Soon I was at the gate, where we all had to go through an additional security checkpoint, this time with a backscatter imager for everyone to stand in. After that, I got to stare for about 30 minutes at our chariot: a "combi" 747 (the rear section of the plane carries cargo, and the front passengers). We were a little late boarding because, according to the announcement, the plane had been carrying horses to Amsterdam and had to be "cleaned." Eew.

Enlarge/ The sky chariot that would fly me across the Atlantic and back home.

I’m having the flight of my life

As with every plane I’d been on for this entire trip, the 747 was flying in two-class layout. This meant that both the upper deck and the nose section were business class (rather than the more conventional three-class international layout where the nose is first class). I’d once again managed to land a seat in the front, but as the flight attendant was bringing us pre-flight drinks—orange juice this time, I’m not so crazy as to drink liquor for breakfast—he told me that they were very underbooked and after take-off I could move anywhere I wanted.

Once we got airborne, I stood up and looked around. The nose section of the 747 had room for about 20 people, but only five seats were occupied—and I was the only person with a seat-mate in the pod next to me. So I grabbed my backpack, moved it to its own ludicrously large overhead bin, and claimed a window seat near the rear of the front cabin.

I sat in the nose section of our two-class 747 (both the nose and upper deck were business class seats), and it was absurdly empty. It was amazing.

Room to stretch? More like room to set up camp.

Glancing back toward the lavatories and galley. Not a lot of seats were occupied.

See that overhead? That's my overhead. All for me! Mine, mine, mine!

I’d worried a bit prior to the flight about how I was going to stay sane during the 10-hour crossing back home, but reclining there in my own private pod in the sun-dappled and quiet nose section of a weirdly empty 747, I realized that I had discovered the True Secret to Comfortable Air Travel: a good seat and a near-total absence of other people.

The flight attendants were absurdly friendly, and as the hours rolled on, they brought snacks, lunch, more snacks, snacks, and as many refills of Courvoisier XO as I could drink. Seriously, they just kept bringing it.

The in-flight menu, listing all the things I would be stuffing my face with over the next 10 hours.

A smoked tuna salad—quite good.

I have to admit that it didn't look terribly appetizing, but the salmon and green curry was actually very tasty.

A chicken biryani snack for when I was feeling peckish later.

No Royal Dutch Airlines flight would be complete without Dutch apple pie.

One of my seemingly-engless cognacs.

The wine list, for anyone who's curious.

I can’t overstate just how enjoyable the flight was. The near-empty cabin meant I could not only stretch out, but basically sprawl in any configuration I cared to sprawl in. As the hours went on, I got up and wandered the enormous plane, climbing the staircase to the upper deck (there were only two people sitting up there, so it was even emptier than the nose) and wandering into the back to see how economy was laid out. The back of the plane was also under-sold, and many of the passengers were laying down across two seats, sleeping or reading.

Honestly—this is going to sound insane and I didn’t think I’d ever have this thought about any trip ever—I kind of wanted the flight to keep going past our 10 hours. I’d preloaded my laptop with Boxer and Space Quests I through IV, and I played through them all, back to back, losing myself in retrogaming as we flew our great circle high above Greenland and Newfoundland toward home. Every hour or so, new food arrived from the apparently depthless galley, delivered by smiling flight attendants who appeared happy to have something to do.

"Is this normal?" I asked our purser as he presented me a tray filled with little Dutch houses. "To have a flight this empty?"

He shook his head. "Absolutely not," he replied. "I fly this route every two weeks and it is almost always full. I have never seen the plane so empty."

"It’s really great," I said, making my Dutch house choice. It felt heavier than it should—I shook it and it sloshed. "Wait, is there liquor in this thing, too?!" (There was.)

The view from the upper deck, lookout out across our wing somewhere around Newfoundland.

Desolate, inhospitable ice stretched out below from horizon to horizon.

High cirrus clouds formed their own ocean in the swift winds as we sped along.

I wiled away the time with retro-gaming (and drinking).

Not quite midway through the flight as our great circle flight path took us over Greenland.

Greenland was ice, rocks, and desolation.

I don't think I can count the number of times I've played through this game, but it's still fun.

All good things…

After 10 hours, we landed. Unless I somehow find myself flying in a private jet, I don’t know if I’ll ever have such a downright pleasant intercontinental flight. I made it a point to tweet at KLM to thank them for the experience, because seriously, it was outstanding.

Now, going through US customs? That was definitely not outstanding. Nothing says "welcome home" like waiting in line at an airport for an hour—and the contrast between being treated like royalty on the flight and being treated like a criminal was pretty jarring. But, hey, I was back in the USA, and a couple of hours after landing, I was in my comfortable home, suitcases unpacked, ready to read a bit before bed. With the time change working in my favor because of the westerly travel, it felt like it was past midnight when my wife and I grabbed a quick dinner.

I fell asleep early and dreamed dreams of high flight, comfortable accommodations, and unlimited cognac at 36,000 feet.

Lee Hutchinson
Lee is the Senior Technology Editor at Ars and oversees gadget, automotive, IT, and culture content. He also knows stuff about enterprise storage, security, and manned space flight. Lee is based in Houston, TX. Emaillee.hutchinson@arstechnica.com//Twitter@Lee_Ars